


Game On!

by DashieP



Category: The Masked Singer (US TV)
Genre: And also isn't Astroturtle, Fluff, M/M, Sports, Who even am I??, Wow I'm posting something that isn't angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26127544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DashieP/pseuds/DashieP
Summary: It's finally time, no more rehersals.
Relationships: Rottweiler (The Masked Singer US)/Thingamajig (The Masked Singer US)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Game On!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi,
> 
> I don't usually do notes but figured I will for once.  
> Please enjoy this happy romance fic, albeit a short one, as I work on something more... angsty :)  
> Feel free to leave requests or dm me, I love chatting!

Rottweiler leans forward on the bleachers, a foam finger clutched in his hand. He   
watches excitedly as his boyfriend runs up and down the basketball court, sweat gleaming from   
the tips of his feathery spikes. He had been so nervous to come to a game; loud noises always set   
him on edge.   
Supporting his boyfriend was something he usually does from the safety of their couch   
back home, but Thingamajig had practically begged him to go, a courtside ticket clutched   
between his fingers and a pleading expression on his face. So here Rottie sits.   
Thinga is amazing to watch in action. The way he glides across the floor is so graceful   
that Rottie gets why his teammates call him ‘Mr. Feathery’. He can’t peel his eyes off the   
monster. He’s sure somewhere on the jumbotron the stadium is broadcasting his goofy   
expression but he doesn’t care. It isn’t half as important as Thinga.   
Rottie can’t wait until the game is over. He imagines his partner could use a nice   
backrub, to help release the tension from the game. It was their after-game tradition, after all,   
and although Rottie isn’t going to be able to make him a nice dinner, he’s intent on at least doing   
the latter half. He tries to remember if he had bought more massage oil-   
A loud buzz pulls him from his thoughts. Ah, it must be halftime! Rottie happily jumps   
up and almost trips over a woman and her daughter as he goes. “Sorry!” He shouts behind him,   
not stopping. He hears her huff and feels a pang of guilt, but it’s quickly gone as he sees   
Thingamajig run up to him.   
“Jiggy!” Rottie cheers, tail thumping gleefully against the linoleum. He barely manages   
to keep himself from leaping into his lover’s arms, aware that the other is probably too tired to   
catch him right now. Thingamajig is grinning, eyes bright with excitement. “Roro, I’m so glad   
you came.’ Even now, as out of breath as he is, his voice is still so smooth. Rottie had fallen in   
love with that voice the first time he’d heard it.   
“You were amazing! Oh my god, you were practically flying,” Rottweiler gushes. Thinga   
just laughs, a wholesome pure sound, and pulls the dog into a tight hug. Rottie’s nose twitches at   
the sweat, but he hugs back regardless. “I mean it! You’re amazing, I can’t believe how fast you   
are.”   
Thingamajig pulls back after a moment and studies Rottie’s face. “It means a lot to me   
that you came. I know this is a lot for you to handle.”   
“This? Oh, it was nothing! I mean, I got to see you. That makes it worth it.”   
Rottie wonders if that was too gooey romantic, but Thinga just smiles. “I have something   
for you,” He says. A gift? His tail starts beating faster in excitement. “You didn’t have to get me   
anything, this is about you.” He pretends to pout, but he knows the taller man can see through   
the façade. Thinga doesn’t reply, just reaches under his neckline and pulls out a small chain.   
On it hangs a large ring, the word Monsters gleaming across the front. It has a million   
tiny gems encrusted into it, and a small basketball emblem engraved on the side. Rottie stares at   
it in confusion for a moment. “Is…Is that your team ring?” He finally asks. Thingamajig nods.   
“They gave them out a couple days ago. I was planning on giving it to you somewhere a bit more   
intimate, but I just can’t wait any longer.”   
Rottie barks out a confused laugh.   
“Careful, if the camera’s catch you giving me a ring, people might think you’re   
proposing.”   
“I am.”   
The canine rocks backs on his heels in surprise. “You are?” he squeaks out. He’d   
dreamed about this moment, sure, but he hadn’t thought the athlete was ready for that yet.   
Whenever they had discussed taking the next step, Thingamajig had seemed to need more time,   
and Rottie was more than happy to wait. He opens and closes his mouth, not sure what to say.   
Instead he just stares at his partner, dumbfounded.   
“I know this is sudden,” Thingamajig starts, “But I know how I feel. I love you. I love the   
way you look in the morning, I love the way the tip of your tongue sticks out as you paint, I love   
how you blush when I compliment you, I love you. And I know you love me, too. So I want to   
marry you. I want to show the world-no, the universe, that you will always and forever be my   
Rottweiler. So marry me.”   
Rottie’s crying now, happy tears streaming down his cheeks. He doesn’t trust his voice so   
he just nods, hands furiously wiping at the wetness on his face before tackling the monster in a   
hug. He can hear himself give little happy yips as he kisses Thinga’s face. His boyfriend laughs   
again and scoops him up, spinning him around in joy.   
The screens around them are all showing this moment, and the stadium is practically   
bursting with cheers. People begin to chant “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” and the duo oblige. Eventually,   
however, they pull apart and rest their foreheads against each other. “I love you,” They whisper   
at the same time before devolving into giggles.   
“I should get back to the game.” Thinga says after a moment, and Rottie lets go. He   
carefully takes the ring off the chain and slides it onto his finger. It’s huge and gaudy, and Rottie   
wouldn’t have it any other way. “Good luck out there, tiger.” He teases, before sauntering back to   
his seat.   
He makes sure that Thinga can see his tail wagging, though.


End file.
